


i bet you do this with all your soul brothers

by Anonymous



Category: Thai Actor RPF, พฤติการณ์ที่ตาย | Manner of Death (TV) RPF, อกหักมารักกับผม | Together With Me: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Gay Chicken, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Massage, Messing Around Turns Into Fucking, Romantic Friendship, Shower Sex, Well that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 18:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Max has always been better at this than him, this strange flirtation that permeates their friendship. He treads the line effortlessly, dipping his toes over on occasion just to see what he can get away with, as if he’s testing to see how far he can push Tul’s boundaries before they give altogether.
Relationships: Max Nattapol Diloknawarit/Tul Pakorn Thanasrivanitchai
Comments: 18
Kudos: 55
Collections: Anonymous





	i bet you do this with all your soul brothers

Tul doesn’t see Max enter the shower. He’s got shampoo in his hair, running down his face, and if he were to open his eyes at that moment he knows they would sting like a bitch. He does hear the stall door open and shut, however, and his body goes rigid, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. 

“Max?”

They’re sharing a hotel room in Taipei, where they’re currently shooting promotional material for an upcoming fan meet. Tul had gone back ahead of Max after filming had wrapped, meaning the hotel room had been empty when he’d arrived. Max was the only other person with a keycard, so it could only be him entering the shower now.

“Right here,” says Max from close beside him, his voice echoing around the cramped stall. Tul jumps at the proximity and scrubs his eyes until he’s able to look at him. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asks, angling his body slightly to avoid flashing his nong. “When did you get back?”

“Just now. P’Klui wanted to talk to me about a clothes fitting tomorrow,” says Max casually, nudging Tul over until he can duck his head under the shower spray. Tul frowns as Max’s hair becomes soaked, plastered in black swirls to his forehead before a large hand pushes it back. Max spits a mouthful of water out on the ground and Tul shifts his foot to avoid it. “I brought back dinner though. Hope you don’t mind beef guay teow.”

Tul shakes his head, dislodging a glob of shampoo that drips from his eyebrow down to his eyelid. “Shit,” he hisses, closing it instantly and shoving Max aside to rinse his face. “Why didn’t you wait for me to get out first? Now I’ve got soap in my eye.”

“Faster this way,” says Max, a grin detectable in his voice. “Why? Don’t you like showering with your nong?”

Tul would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t currently flushing them. Max’s hands find their way to his shoulders, and he shrugs him off with faux-irritation. Undeterred, Max puts his hands back where they were, fingers kneading the taut muscles on either side of Tul’s neck.

“Come on,” he says, a teasing whine to his tone. “Who else is going to wash your back for you, mia?”

“Watch who you’re calling mia,” Tul says, reaching a hand back to slap Max on the ass. The blow glances off his hip, but the point lands as Max exhales a laugh against the nape of his neck. 

It’s not like this is entirely unusual; they’ve showered together before, after all, for romance scenes and commercials and before and after visiting hot springs. But they don’t usually shower together in hotel rooms. 

It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of their banter, though, and Tul finds his eyelids fluttering shut as Max’s hands, slick with soap, glide across his shoulders and down his biceps. It’s somewhat cold now that he’s not directly under the shower head, so he reaches out to turn the knob for more hot water, flooding the stall with steam.

“Hurry up,” Tul says after a minute, turning his neck slightly to glance at the figure behind him. “I’m hungry. The food’s probably getting cold.” 

“Is that all you can think about when you’re with me?” Max asks with mock offense, running his hands from Tul’s shoulder blades down to his lower back. “Eating food?” 

“Are you suggesting I eat you instead?”

Max doesn’t get a chance to answer as his thumbs graze a sore spot in the small of Tul’s back. Tul sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and Max’s hands stop abruptly, shifting to hold his waist. 

“Hurts?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern.

“Eh. Did something weird to my back at the gym,” he mutters, brushing it off. 

Slowly, Max’s thumbs resume their attention, gently circling the tender muscle. Tul braces one arm against the wall until the discomfort gives way to relief, and he lets out a soft, grateful sigh. Max has always been ridiculously good with his hands. Tul was planning on making a massage appointment tomorrow, but that now seems wholly unnecessary. 

“Better?” Max asks, his hands drifting away from Tul’s spine.

“Mm.” Tul flinches as Max’s fingers graze the top of his glutes. If he wasn’t already used to it by now, he might have protested, but Max has a bad habit of touching his ass at every opportunity.

“You seem a little tight here, too,” Max continues, kneading his fingers deeper into the firm muscle. Tul swallows hard and his knees buckle slightly as Max’s hands glide lower, rubbing and caressing each cheek in either hand before pulling them apart. 

“Oi!” Tul turns around and smacks his hands away. 

A devious grin plays across Max’s features. “Sorry, Phi. Your skin was just so slippery,” he says, holding up his soapy palms as evidence. He wiggles his fingers. 

Tul rolls his eyes and gives him a less-than-playful shove. Max has always been better at this than him, this strange flirtation that permeates their friendship. He treads the line effortlessly, dipping his toes over on occasion just to see what he can get away with, as if he’s testing to see how far he can push Tul’s boundaries before they give altogether. Sometimes it feels as if Max is standing in front of Tul’s proverbial goal post, one kick away from a final score. And it’s fucking embarrassing.

“Turn around,” Tul says brusquely, gesturing toward the opposite wall. His cock is half-hard now thanks to Max’s brazen groping, and he doesn’t exactly want the younger man to see that. “I’ll wash you now.”

Max’s wide smile disappears as he turns, leaving them back to front once more. Tul grabs the container of shower gel and squeezes some into his hands before working it into a lather, staring straight at the back of Max’s head. Even wet, the man’s hair is stylish and put-together, most likely from a recent pre-photo shoot trim. 

At the first brush of Tul’s hands Max sighs and his body visibly relaxes. “Ahh. That’s nice, Phi, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome, bro,” Tul says, lightly scratching his fingers across Max’s upper back. “Just let me take care of you.” His body has calmed down somewhat now that he’s not the one being touched, and he dedicates himself to the task with renewed gusto, rubbing slow, firm circles into Max’s broad shoulders. White rivulets of soap cascade down his tanned skin, over the curve of his backside, and Tul considers following their progress with his hands to tease him before shaking the thought from his head. 

With a low sigh, Max leans his head back until it rests on Tul’s shoulder, wet hair slightly cold against his skin. Tul peeks at his face and notices his eyes are closed, his expression serene.

“Good?” Tul asks.

Max moans in response. “Don’t stop, Phi,” he says, his voice surprisingly breathless and wanton. 

Tul grits his teeth. _Fucker._ Right after he’d just calmed down too! Max is too good at this; even when Tul flips the narrative and tries his hardest to get a rise out of him, Max just doesn’t have the same sense of propriety that makes Tul shy away every time. 

Oh well. Two can play at that game. Max Nattapol is a menace, and Tul thinks to himself with a smirk that it’s time he received a taste of his own medicine.

“I should wash the front too,” Tul offers innocently, slowly gliding his hands around to Max’s chest. 

Max merely groans in response, arching slightly into Tul’s touch as his palms roam over each pec. Max’s nipples stiffen under his hands, and he teases them as much as he can without actually pinching, instead catching them between his fingers with every pass. 

“Your nipples are so hard, Maxi,” he murmurs wickedly, pressing his lips deliberately to Max’s ear.

“Only for you, Phi,” Max replies as a shiver runs through his body. 

God, he’s so good at acting like a fucking slut. Or maybe it’s not an act and Max is just that horny all the time. Either way, he seems affected, and Tul experiences a brief moment of triumph before allowing his hands to drift lower across the taut planes of Max’s stomach. His abdominal muscles are clenched tight, and Tul thinks that maybe he’s finally nervous, maybe he’s tensing up like that because he’s finally getting uncomfortable--or maybe he’s just showing off because he’s built like a Greek god and he knows how much Tul likes it.

“Is this okay?” he asks as his fingertips skim the coarse curls above Max’s groin. Max nods, a jerky movement against Tul’s shoulder. Short, labored breaths whistle in and out of his nostrils, tickling the skin on Tul’s neck, and he’s certain that any second now Max is going to cave and lurch away, laughing and punching him on the arm.

But not yet. They’re at a stalemate, and there’s a mental block that Tul knows he has to push past if he really wants to get Max’s goat. He recalls all the times Max has crossed the same line in his head, whether it be playfully fondling him while they lounge in bed together or groping his balls during a romance scene--and Tul uses that courage to fortify himself as he slowly stretches out a fingertip and strokes it along the length of Max’s cock.

Max’s whole body tenses against him as if he’s been shocked. Tul locks his free arm around Max’s waist to keep him from slipping and falling on the wet floor, grateful at that moment that he’s strong enough to support them both. He’d expected Max to jump--was counting on it in fact. What he hadn’t counted on was the low, hopeful exhale that slipped past Max’s lips, nor the unmistakable twitch of interest under his now-trembling hand.

Tul’s ears ring in the silence that follows. He makes to take his hand away, but an iron grip encircles his wrist before he can, holding him in place. Tul’s breath catches audibly in his throat, and he flexes his fingers, testing the strength of Max’s hold on him. Max’s hand doesn’t budge. 

Is this still part of the game? 

It doesn’t feel like it. Max drags his hand lower and Tul lets him, his insides burning with a sort of dangerous curiosity. With immeasurable slowness, Max wraps both their fingers around his erection, and Tul meets his smoldering gaze cautiously as Max cranes his neck to whisper, “I thought you said you would take care of me, Phi.”

 _Ah, fuck._ Max’s words go straight to his dick, and he steps backwards in an attempt to keep his erection from poking Max in the upper thigh. Slowly, Max turns around to face him, relinquishing the hold on Tul’s hand as he uses his bulk to crowd him back against the shower wall. Tul swallows hard, his eyes searching Max’s face for any indication that this is a joke to him, for the tilt of a smirk or the loft of an eyebrow. But he finds no such tell. Max’s erection brushes against his thigh, hot and heavy, and Tul's pulse pounds to a roar in his ears. 

“P’Tul?”

Tul knows that look. He’s seen it on Max’s face dozens of times before on set, that same heat and intensity as he gazes into Tul's eyes. But there’s something slightly different about it too, something a bit more organic. It’s not a character Max is playing, but Max himself that is looking at him as if he’s a dam about to burst, chest flushed bright red and eyes dark and hungry. 

Tul’s body moves before his mind is made up, bridging the distance between them to press their mouths together in a firm, open-mouthed kiss. Max chases his lips as he pulls away, and Tul can feel the pillars of professionalism crumbling around them as they make contact again and again, each pull of their lips more passionate than the last. For once, Tul’s not worried about the angle of the camera, or the position of their heads, or the pacing of the moment. It’s natural and effortless, fast and hot and confusing and exhilarating and too much and not enough all at once. If it's a mistake, it’s one he’s been yearning to make for awhile now. Whatever tightrope act he’s been doing for the last few years has come to an abrupt and seemingly inevitable end, and as he plummets he can’t help but think _fucking finally._

The cascade of water from the shower head is forgotten as they press their bodies together, sinking their hands into every inch of foreign flesh they can get. Max bites his lower lip as he yanks on a fistful of short hair, and Tul moans, really moans, pulling back only so far as it takes him to say, “Fuck, I always love it when you do that.”

Max’s answer is a growl as he ruts against him. Tul reaches down to palm himself, to stroke Max too, but it’s soon futile as one of Max’s thick, muscular thighs shoves his legs apart and grinds against his hard cock. They quickly find a rhythm, thrusting against each other’s wet skin until the contact isn’t enough, and Max flips him around roughly so that Tul’s cheek is smashed up against the tile. 

“God, I want to fuck your ass,” Max groans, grinding against the slippery surface of Tul’s lower back. “Can I please, Phi?”

Tul moans and shakes his head, squeezing his cock to keep himself from coming. He’s fucked girl-ass before, and he knows from experience that it’s messy and difficult and more trouble than it’s worth. He wants Max now and he wants to come without having to work too hard for it. 

“Thighs,” Tul manages to grunt, spreading his legs apart a few inches and bending at the waist. “Fuck my thighs.” 

Max’s answering moan sounds like it’s been punched out of him. Tul can only imagine what a lewd picture he makes: shoved up against the shower wall with his ass out, peering over his shoulder at his naked best friend with his eyes half-lidded like the characters he plays. 

Max wastes no time spreading soap suds between his legs, sparing a few rough strokes to Tul’s leaking cock as it jumps against his belly. The second his fingers disappear Max’s dick takes their place, and Tul moans as the thick length slides against his own, slow and then faster, harder as Max’s fingertips dig into his hips. 

“Fuck.” Tul’s jaw drops open and he bows his head, body jolting with every one of Max’s powerful thrusts. A loud, echoing smack reverberates each time their bodies come together, and Tul thinks that it barely matters that Max’s dick isn’t in him, he’s pounding against his ass so hard anyway. He’s going to have bruises on his body for the photo shoot tomorrow, hickeys on his neck, marks that are only going to confirm what so many people already believe; that he’s Max’s toy, his wife, a body to possess and a hole to fuck. 

The thought makes his gut wrench with illicit pleasure, and Tul chokes out a low moan. “Fuck, Max, I’m gonna fucking come.” 

“God, yes, Phi. Come for me,” Max gasps into his ear, reaching around to fist their dicks together in his huge hand. It’s just as clumsy as it is hot, and a few more seconds is all it takes before they’re both coming, shuddering and groaning as the force of the orgasm nearly takes them down to the ground. 

The comedown is nice and slow. Max’s loud, rough breathing evens out next to Tul’s ear as his fingers softly stroke the marks he’s left on his hips. As soon as he’s conscious enough, Tul ducks out from under Max’s weight and leans his body back against the tile, eyes closed and chest heaving. 

He hears Max fiddle with the knobs of the shower until the water turns off, and he grunts out a thank you. The cold immediately begins seeping into their skin, and together they stumble out of the stall in search of towels. Tul’s legs are weak under him as he pats his body dry, and Max continues to shiver every so often, as if he’s still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure coursing down his spine. 

They don’t speak. Tul knows they should talk about it. They _will_ talk about it. But right now, nothing sounds better than collapsing into the plush hotel bed and closing his eyes for the next eight hours.

“Phi.”

Tul glances over toward where his nong is standing by the bathroom door. Max is wearing a fluffy hotel robe now, his towel draped around his shoulders to catch any errant drips. He holds the duplicate robe out for Tul to take. 

“Dinner?” he asks. 

Tul accepts the robe with a nod and a flickering smile. They’ll talk about it. Of course they’ll talk about it. But first, beef guay teow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I’d love to read your comments.


End file.
